Fall
by The Hmuff
Summary: As Haddock dangles from a rope off the mountainside in Tibet, he faces the ultimate choice. An alternate ending to Tintin in Tibet. Oneshot, very sad and angsty. WARNING: character death


**Disclaimer: **Unsurprisingly, I don't own Tintin or Moulinsart or any of the characters.

* * *

**Fall**

"_Yow!"_

Haddock roared with pain as the rock ripped from his grasp and bashed against his shin. He heard it bouncing against the mountainside as it freefell to the slope below. At first, he was unaware of what it meant; his mind could focus on nothing except for the pain in his leg. Then he realised he was falling. Gloved fingers reached out, expecting to feel the security of the mountainside, but met only thin air. His vision stopped registering in his mind. He saw nothing, felt nothing, was aware only of his insides shrinking beneath the gravity of what was happening...

Pain. Pain jarred his entire body. He tried to speak, tried to breathe, but couldn't.

"Captain… are you alright? Speak to me! Are you alright?"

For a while, he wasn't even aware that Tintin was shouting to him. Haddock felt sick, and was completely winded. The rope around his waist must've saved him, but it was a sheer miracle the jolt hadn't sent the two of them plummeting off the mountain. "Blistering… barnacles…" he panted, struggling for air, and called out, as loudly as he could, "Tintin? You okay?"

Tintin grunted, "Oui…"

Relief washed over him, but his lungs were still burning; he could barely talk. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's as he gulped for air. "That was… a near… thing," he wheezed, glancing nervously at the sickening drop he was dangling over. "But I'm… safe… thanks to you. Can you haul… me up?"

There was a long pause.

"…Tintin?"

From the rock where Tintin was perched, came a low moan as Tintin strained his entire body, trying to pull Haddock up; the rope weakly tightened, inching him upward.

He felt his blood run cold.

_He's not strong enough_, he thought. And sure enough, after only few moments, Tintin gave up.

"No such luck," Haddock could hear him gasp, the words only fortifying his fears. "Can't move— if I make— the slightest— move— we both die."

The Captain glanced down nervously at the rocks below, but just as quickly averted his gaze. It was so far down…

But there was a way out. He knew that. They just had to find it. Pushing himself forward, he tried to swing his body towards the rock face. No dice. His forehead furrowed with frustration; he let out a short, angry growl. The infuriating thing was mere metres away, but he couldn't so much as touch it.

"There's no way of regaining a hold on those perishing rocks…" he called up to Tintin, but his words were met only with silence. Gritting his teeth, he tried again. But his efforts only reinstated the finality of it all: it was hopeless.

_But there's a way out. There always is._

"I can't make it!" he shouted. "And I'm beginning to freeze on the end of this bit of string! Can you hang on, up there?"

"For as long as possible… but I'm getting weaker. And paralysed with cold." His voice sounded pale and thin, like spring ice about to crack. As if he was going to let go any second.

"That means we both fall." Forcing himself to look at the slope beneath, Haddock tried to judge how far up they were. The rocks below were mere specks. Dots. Jagged dots… waiting to embrace them...

Nausea clamped his stomach, and he resisted the urge to be sick. They were going to fall. He knew it. They were going to die…

_No. _

They couldn't die. Not after all they'd been through, all they'd survived. It couldn't end like this. Tintin was so _young. _Too young to die.

"Tintin." He swallowed, trying to push away the emotions threatening to choke him up. He couldn't lose it. Not now. "Tintin, lad. Cut the rope. It's the only answer."

The answer was immediate, and it crushed Haddock completely.

"Never!"

"Save yourself!" He could hear the desperation slowly seeping into his voice along with the frustration as he begged, "Blast it, Tintin, it's the only answer!"

"Either we're both saved, or we die _together._"

"Better for one to die, than two, isn't it?" Through clenched teeth, he shouted, "Blistering barnacles, lad! Cut it!"

"I'll never do it!"

Haddock said, weakly, "It's better that—"

"No!" Tintin's voice was almost a scream now. "No, it's not! I'd rather die than cut that rope! You hear me? I'll never do it!"

The Captain's breath was tight and strangled in his throat. He could feel his fingers shaking as he swallowed, glanced down again at the rocks below. Like a man on the gallows, he slowly swung back and forth, his body carried by the wind; sweat trickled down his forehead that he didn't dare wipe away.

There was a way out. There _always_ was.

Right? Wasn't there?

"All right," he said, and was surprised at the calm in his own voice. "I'll cut it myself."

With shaking, frozen hands, he fumbled for his knife. He knew Tintin was shouting at him, but he didn't hear. It seemed to come from a long way off— as if he was underwater, and Tintin was somewhere, far off, above the surface. Fingers closing around the grip of the knife, he slowly peeled out the blade.

"Stop it! I said stop it! Now!"

But Haddock blocked his mind to Tintin's shouts as he stared at the knife. The light from the Tibetan sun, dripping down the thin, razor-like edge.

"My mind is made up," he shouted weakly. His hands were half frozen; he lost grip on the knife and only barely managed to catch it. Struggling to control his fingers, fighting to regulate his wild breathing, he reached forward and dragged the edge against the rope. He could feel the individual strings snapping, jarring his body as each one broke._ Oh God_, he thought, the words repeating over and over again, a prayer in and of themselves, throbbing with every heartbeat. _Oh God. Oh God. _

He didn't want to die. _Oh God. _He didn't _want _to die…

"Don't do this!" Tintin was screaming at him, his voice trembling with— with what? Rage? Desperation? "You think I can live without you? You're mad, Haddock! Don't you dare cut that rope!"

But the Captain was barely listening. He was thinking how he couldn't see Tintin, from where he was. He would've liked to. He would've liked to have seen that face again. It was the only thing he wanted, all of a sudden, and without permission, he felt his chest heave. He had to blink away the sudden sting of tears from his eyes. "Tintin… Tintin, I…" But he couldn't find the words. He knew he had to say something, but there seemed to be nothing to say. "I— I want you to know…"

"No. No!" His voice gained wild strength as realised what Haddock was saying, why he was saying it. He repeated the words over and over, begging, his voice completely strangled with tears. "No! Don't do this to me, Captain, please, no!"

The Captain sawed through the threads, feeling his heart lurch with each movement of the knife. It wasn't meant to end like this, he thought. They were supposed to die together. They were supposed to get shot dragging down some drug cartel or world-class criminal. They were supposed to die together. This was all wrong.

"Tintin, you're… you're everything…" he choked, but Tintin cut him off.

"No! Mon Dieu, no!" He was all but sobbing, and the sound of it made Haddock's heart shatter. "Please!"

The rope was almost sliced through. The Captain realized, through blurring vision, that his body was suspended only by a thread. It would be any moment now.

He saw, for a moment, Tintin's hand reaching out towards him. And he raised his own. Reaching for him. One last time.

"Captain!" the boy sobbed. "Please!"

Haddock's eyes unfocused. Staring past Tintin.

"Save Chang," he whispered.

And then the final string snapped.

/

Falling.

He was aware of Tintin's screams, but they didn't scare him. He was safe. Tintin was safe. That was all that mattered.

_This is alright,_ he thought. _It's okay._

_It's okay._

And then his body smashed open on the rocks below.


End file.
